


lehiot

by haipollai



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Antisemitism, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jewish Character, M/M, Non-Chronological, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Russians didn't want me to forget," Bucky mumbled but otherwise didn’t move. "Always a good excuse to beat me up."</p>
<p>"Oh I uh sorry." </p>
<p>Bucky twisted as much as he could to fix Clint with a hard stare. "I'm not ashamed of who I am."</p>
            </blockquote>





	lehiot

**Author's Note:**

> lehiot - _to be_  
>  this follows more of the backstory from the comic put out with the first movie where they were orphans together from a very young age

Steve lightly scratched Bucky's back, feeling him sigh and shift, mostly unconscious. The nurses sneak around trying not to wake him but Steve was fairly sure a bomb couldn't wake him up right then. 

"Hey Rogers," Clint stuck his head in. Steve knew that Clint and Natasha are keeping watch as they wait for Bucky to heal well enough to move. They're not safe, not really but it's nice to pretend for a little bit. 

"Clint. Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He shrugged and gave Bucky a thoughtful look. "How is he?"

"Not dead?" Steve smiled weakly and moved his hand down to the bandages hiding the injury. "Doctor says he'll make it. Just a lot of damage."

Clint smiled humorlessly. "He dug a bomb out of his side with his fingers. That'd fuck anyone up."

Steve grimaced and held onto Bucky a little bit tighter, not wanting to think about it. The sight of Bucky with blood on his hands, the knife at his feet. 

"What's that on his back?" Clint asked, leaning in a little closer. Steve knew what he was looking at without needing to look himself. 

"Jewish legion. His uncle served with them." His fingers drifted up to the crest tattooed on Bucky's skin. Steve has the insignia practically memorized from tracing it with fingers and lips. 

"Surprised the Russians didn't take it off."

"Russians didn't want me to forget," Bucky mumbled but otherwise didn’t move. "Always a good excuse to beat me up."

"Oh I uh sorry." 

Bucky twisted as much as he could to fix Clint with a hard stare. "I'm not ashamed of who I am." 

"I didn't mean- just sorry about bringing up bad memories."

Bucky lie down carefully with his head in Steve's lap. "Whatever. How much longer we gotta be here Steve?"

"When you can walk without crying."

"Fuck you, don't cry." He tried to hold back a yawn but failed, burying his face against Steve's thigh. 

-

It's a Friday night and instead of enjoying it, Bucky huddled down in an old decrepit airbase with Jessica Drew, Steve and Clint. Steve was in dark blue for this mission, no bright reds or whites. 

He dug around in his pocket, knowing they still have at least another miserable ten minutes before the marks showed up and they could get this done. 

He pulled out a lonely cigarette. He couldn't even light it up in case the glow gave them away. Steve plucked it from his fingers and held it loosely between his lips. 

"Remember when we used to sneak out after dinners?"

Bucky stole the cigarette back. "You mean on Fridays? When I would sneak out to meet up with you half way across the city?"

Steve grinned. "Yea that." He leaned into Bucky, his shoulder resting against his. "Came up to Harlem sometimes." Bucky snorted softly, Steve would come up to meet him but Bucky was the one doing the sneaking out. 

"Don't be like that." Steve was still smiling though, obviously amused. "Risked life and limb to show you the city."

"You missed weaseling free drinks from the bartender cause you were too busy hanging onto me and nothing else," Bucky teased. The other two were watching, trying to hide their interest and Bucky wondered how much they never bothered to know about Steve. 

"You were worth it." 

Bucky flushed, caught off guard about the real compliment hidden there. He bumped against Steve's shoulder. "Come on, we got bad guys to fight."

"Save the cigarette until we're done here," Steve said, carefully tucking the small stick back into Bucky's pocket. He turned to the rest of the team to go over the plan one last time. Bucky listened with half an ear, he had already memorized what they were doing earlier. His side still ached and this was the first time he was truly out in the field with Steve.

He cracked the knuckles of his right hand. “You slackers ready yet?” He directed it mostly as Steve but he saw Jessica quickly hide a smile and Clint looked aghast.

“Waiting on you old man,” Steve said. “Let’s go.”

-

It was always easiest to sneak out after Shabbat dinners. Lights were off, everyone was expected to sit and play games and be good. It was always such chaos, no one noticed one less little boy. 

If Steve could, he'd be waiting at the subway, sketchbook on his knees, cigarette between his lips. Sometimes, if there had been enough work or the right kind of work, there was a bottle of gin in his bag. 

Bucky sat next to him, pressing close. "Brooklyn?" Steve asked even as he gathered up his stuff. They started going together when Bucky was fifteen, Steve's arm always firm around his waist. As if he was going to protect Bucky against any leches. But they always went to places where Steve was Known and it did protect him. At least from other patrons. Bucky was the one who got them away from any cops. 

Being with Steve was the freest he ever felt. No other obligations to worry about. Just the two of them. Bucky never thought much about music but Steve liked jazz and he wasn’t all sharp elbows and awkward feet when he put his mind to it. And Steve didn’t care that Bucky wasn’t Irish or Christian, that he’d probably never amount to much. He didn't care because he seemed to genuinely care about Bucky. 

Bucky was sixteen when he knew he’d fight to the ends of the earth for Steve.

-

Bucky looked at himself in the mirror, he had cut his hair short and he’d shaved but he was still drawn and gaunt. Not eating enough, it's strange like it's an old habit he can't quite pick back up. Everything was dictated for him for so long that he forgets that he has to stop himself to eat. 

He was never a good cook anyway, never really had a kitchen to use. He could hear Steve shuffling around in his apartment and forced his shoulders to relax. Just Steve. 

Bucky made himself stop staring at his scars and joined Steve in the kitchen. 

"We should get dinner," he said, not giving himself the chance to back down or think too much. Everything is back and forth, he would feel like he's doing better but then it crashed down. 

Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a memory taken from him or it’s been so long since he saw Steve smile he simply forgot. "Ok. Anything you want?"

"Dunno. Pizza maybe."

Steve stood and held out a hand to Bucky. “Come on. I know a good place to get a slice.”

His hand was warm and solid in Bucky’s grip and though he led, he stayed side by side with him as they navigated the city. He pressed close to Steve, needing to protect him against any threats. 

Someone still managed to get the jump on them and Bucky woke up tied to a chair with a bandage on his side.

“Fuck.”

He heard Steve’s shaky laughter and opened his eyes to see Steve on another chair facing him. “Morning sunshine.” 

“Steve fuck I-”

“You say you’re sorry and I’ll leave you here during my daring escape.” His smile seemed less strained than a second ago. Maybe pleased to see Bucky awake.

“You can’t guilt my guilt away.” He frowned at Steve, trying to test the bonds around his wrists. They were zipties though so there was no way he was getting out. “So how are we getting out?” He was surprised at how at ease he felt despite everything. They had someone to fight, they were working together.

“Try me.” He grinned and Bucky felt himself smiling back.

“You’re insane.”

“You knew that since we were kids.”

“And I’m still here.”

Steve’s eyes flicked to the bandage in his side, Bucky had almost forgotten about it. There was only an ache but otherwise not much pain. “Hopefully you’ll be around for a lot longer too.”

Bucky somehow managed to keep his grin up. “Come on Captain America, save the day.” Save me, is what he didn’t say, didn’t even think to say but something in Steve’s eyes gave Bucky the impression that’s what he heard.

-

They knew everyone talked about them. Most of their missions were classified so all anyone saw was the ragtag team of misfits. Even with captain America fighting with them, everyone looked at them with suspicion. 

Bucky carved a star in the back of his dog tags after they got out of the Hydra camp. 

"Jimmy Barnes ain't a Jewish name," Dugan said. Bucky was riding on one of the tanks with Steve, they had been marching for five hours already and still had a few more to go. No one wanted to stop and rest though. 

"Neither's your mom's but I'm sure she's had a little Jew in her," he shot back, immediately defensive. Dugan laughed and beside him Steve chuckled softly, his arm was warm where it pressed against Bucky's side. 

"Fuck you Barnes alright," Dugan said. 

"Just as long as you quit calling me Jimmy." He twisted to look at Steve. "Dum Dum was in the 107th with me."

Steve opened his eyes and have Dum Dum a quick salute. "Thanks for looking out for him."

"Hey," Bucky protested. 

"No problem, kid definitely needed it," Dugan said right over him. Steve grinned and bumped his shoulder against Bucky. 

"Oh yea I know that real well."

Bucky frowned but he knew it was true too. It was Steve who led them, who knew what he wanted before Bucky simply because he was older. More time to figure it out. Bucky was never sure what kept Steve around. "I'm not a kid," he mumbled. 

Steve gripped his shoulder. "I know." He lets go to pull out a cigarette and Bucky immediately steals it. 

Dugan looked back and forth between them and suddenly let out a loud laugh. It felt out of place in the grey forest. “Oh yea, I bet you do.” Bucky’s cheeks burned but there was no malice from Dugan. “Nice tights by the way.”

Steve gave him a jaunty salute. “Gotta look good while saving the day.”

-

Steve healed faster these days but the nasty injuries still left scars and since he could never do anything like a normal guy, most of his injuries were nasty. 

Bucky touched them as if he could do anything to make them go away. He wasn’t sure sometimes if the scars disappearing would even be a good thing. They were the collection of their scars.

When Bucky got his tattoo of the Jewish Legion, Steve got his own tattoo. Bucky gently traces the faded ink with his nail. The crest of the 107th. Both of them honoring family they never knew. 

A knife had cut through the ink, leaving behind a hard line of scar tissue. Bucky's fingers faltered at the scar, knowing he left it there. 

"Bucky?" 

"You should get another,” Bucky said to try to cover up the flare of guilt.

"Oh yea?" He rolled onto his back to smile sleepily at him. "What d'you think?"

"I think," he paused to kiss the dip of Steve's neck. "Something -I dunno. Something memorable."

Steve reached up and traced the line of Bucky's jaw. "Your face?"

"You fucker no." He caught Steve's wrist and kissed his palm. "Draw something."

Steve made a face and tugged Bucky down for a kiss, pressed together down the length of their bodies. “I could get a star,” he whispered. “Like yours.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up in confusion. “But you’re not…”

Steve shrugged. “But you are. And you’re pretty damn important to me Buck.” Bucky felt a blush creep up his neck and tried to will it away. Steve was so calm and assure, Bucky felt like he was fifteen again trying to measure up to Steve’s experience. He kissed the corner of Bucky’s lips. “I have an idea.”

-

There was music playing, Bucky always remembered the music. He could never remember the specific song or even it's tune but he knew there was music. 

And down in the kitchen were three young women, skinny and terrified. The kommandant who lived in the house yelled at them in German and broken English. Gabe had a grip on him so he couldn't do more than yell. 

He also couldn't get away when Bucky turned and punched him in the gut. 

The man saw Bucky's dog tags and the badly cut star on the back. Steve was already pulling him back but when the kommandant made to spit on Bucky, Steve caught him in the jaw. 

"Gabe, Dugan, get him back for Phillips," Steve ordered. "We'll get the women out." Dernier knew the best German of them and the language in his heavy French accent seemed to assure them somehow. 

Bucky tried a few word in Yiddish and they lit up. One of them held his hand the entire march back, he'd never felt so needed before not even by Steve. 

-

"Did you say them?" Bucky asked when he came back. He wasn't sure if he was truly ready to be there in Steve's light again but he was so tired. And as all the bad memories came back he needed someone to lean on. 

Steve looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. 

"I made you promise before I left. To say them."

Steve let out a small oh of realization. "Yes," he whispered. His smile turned tight and sad. "I probably butchered the words but I said them." He curled his fingers around Bucky's wrist, it was a mirror of Bucky's old habit to make sure his heart was still beating. "Is there anyway to take them back?"

"No precedent," Bucky said wryly. 

"I said them when I woke up too. There's a grave for us." 

Bucky leaned over, hesitating a hairbreadth from Steve's lips. He wondered if he should close his eyes, if that would make this romantic but Steve says focused on him and Bucky can't make himself expose himself like that. "We're not there."

"Good." He squeezed Bucky's hand. "Got a whole lifetime to live with you."

"High hopes."

"You know me, can't give up my hopes."

"I know you're secretly a cynic." He kissed Steve's cheek, feeling the scrape of stubble on his lips. 

"Oh yea?" Steve whispered but his voice trembled. Bucky wondered what he was thinking. 

"I know you kept fighting cause you were convinced no one else would." Back when Steve was too small, too skinny and Bucky could never get enough of him. He was waiting for the day he got to that alleyway just a little too late. 

"I knew I had you." He turned his head slightly so Bucky's next kiss fell on the tip of his nose. 

"But I-" He didn't know what the protest was so he let the words die. 

"Come on Buck, to put up with me you gotta be just as stubborn so we don't die easy." His fingers curled around the nape of his neck and gently pulled him down to touch their lips together. 

-

The first time Bucky had bacon was in the room Steve rented out at an artist home. Bucky was fifteen and knew that Steve was fucking the man who lived in the room next to his, a poet. More clever than Bucky could ever hope to be. Bucky was fifteen and starting to figure out that the jealousy in his gut wasn't out of fear of losing a friend. 

Bucky waited to be struck down the first time he took a bite from Steve's plate but nothing happened and it didn't taste bad. 

Steve's eyes crinkled up at the corners. "You look terrified."

He flushed and quickly are the rest. "Different," he said gruffly, not sure what he really felt. It felt sort of anti-climactic.

"Bad?" Steve asked.

He quickly shook his head. "Don't mind trying new things."

"But-"

"Tradition isn't just the food we eat." He tried to sound self assured, like he knew the depth of what he was talking about. Steve must have been able to see through it but he smiled. 

"Don't worry, you can break the rules you want here."

Bucky swallowed hard, Steve was the brave one but he leaned forward and kissed Steve. Quickly before Steve could react and say no. He had kissed before, but only with the girls at the Home. Steve was Steve. He meant something more, he always had. 

Bucky was sure this was it though, especially with how Steve's eyes widened and he didn't move. He wouldn't want some kid like Bucky and he knew Steve had gotten flack before for hanging out with a Jew. 

"I ain't really a catch Barnes," he finally said.

"I dunno, I think you are." 

Steve's eyes crinkled when he smiled and he pulled Bucky in to kiss him again. They ended up on the thin mattress. Bucky felt awkward despite being taller and broader than Steve but Steve knew where to put his hands, he knew how to fit himself against Bucky.

He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s jaw, to his racing pulse. “Ok?” He whispered.

“Please Steve.” He curled his hand around Steve’s hip, not sure where to touch but only knowing he wanted to.

-

It was a rare Friday night that they actually had leave. The Commandos ended up spending it all together anyway, holed up in a hotel room with the blackout curtains drawn. Gabe was shuffling a deck of cards. They played with pocket money and cigarettes. They all knew each others tricks by now though so no one was going to make a lot.

It was more of an excuse to sit around and talk out of uniform. 

Bucky was next to Steve and after a few beers didn’t think twice about leaning towards him, smiling at his cards at the feeling of Steve’s hand curved around his hip.

“Don’t you have to light candles or something?” Gabe suddenly asked. 

Bucky blinked in surprise and shrugged. “You know where to even get candles these days?”

“Who needs candles when fire alone is good?” Dernier asked, trying for innocent but missing by a mile. “Light dynamite?”

“No,” Montgomery immediately cut in. “No dynamite inside London please. I don’t give a shit what prayers must be said.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned further into Steve. “Don’t blame me cause Jacques is nuts.” Dernier faked offense until Gabe shoved a glass of beer at him to shut him up.

“Y’all are nuts,” he said firmly. The conversation moved on but once everyone had been kicked out and it was Steve and Bucky preparing to head to bed for the night, it nagged at him again. He should. Especially now, knowing what was going on in Europe.

Steve held out a cigarette won in the game. Bucky whispered the prayer over it’s burning tip. Steve waited quietly and let Bucky pull him to the bed.

-

He didn't think about getting another star, a real star, after waking up in the present. It didn't feel right. 

He didn't feel like much of anything. So many years of being told what to do, he had forgotten how to lead his own life. It was easy to keep running until Steve caught up with him in Arizona. 

"Tell me what to do," he pleaded. Staring each other down in the middle of nowhere. As soon as Bucky knew Steve was right behind him, he had led them out here away from everything. He didn't know what would happen and wouldn't let any innocents be hurt. 

"I won’t," Steve said. "I'll ask you to come home but I won't give you orders."

Bucky wanted to scream. He was lost and drowning but Steve held out a hand and he remembered trusting him in another life. Steve's hand was rough and callused. Solid. He could hold Bucky up, keep him afloat even when everything else threatened to suck him down.

He pulled Bucky slowly closer to wrap him up and hold him right. 

Steve didn't have to give orders for Bucky to be willing to follow him wherever he asked. 

When he finally got the star, after lying in a hospital bed while his side healed, it wasn't out of some religious need. He needed the feeling of identity again. Steve didn't say anything when he saw it but his eyes crinkled when he smiled.


End file.
